Out of Control

Poetry by PW Covington ∇ Art by Tony Citelli


Out of

We should all be there
So that we learn the way back

So that
We learn
That there is
A way back

Before the court,
In chains,
Waiting to hear
How long
They will lock you away

Shot and bleeding
On a dirty street

Trapped inside
Burning wreckage

Knowing that
Prayers will not
Make rescue
Any more swift
Or certain

Powerless to stop
The aftershocks
Or to still the winds
Or to turn back
Flood waters

Or falling bombs

We should all be there
So that we learn the way back

So that
We learn
That there is
A way back

So that
We learn
Not everyone
Makes it back,

San Francisco Postcards 


I want to mail you San Francisco postcards
Postmarked Philadelphia, PA
I want to lay with you in Dallas
Curtains open,
Neon skyline glowing on your skin
I want to find you waiting there
At baggage claim
In lingerie,
Damp thighs and hungry eyes

I want to fuck you from behind in Denver
In some beat joint on Colfax
And grab and squeeze your neck
As your Corpus Christi climax
Washes over us

I want to sit with you in dimming light
On a porch that faces south
And speak candidly, with humor
Of lovers we have found
Taken, made, or used

Let us celebrate the carnal,
With coffee
And consecrate what’s true
San Francisco postcards last forever
The postmarks never do

 PW Covington’s writing is inspired by the Beat tradition of the American highway. He has been invited to read from Philadelphia to The Beat Museum in San Francisco and from the Texas/Mexico border to the Dakotas.
Covington’s latest collection of poetry, titled “Sacred Wounds” is published by Slough Press. For more information, please visitwww.PWCovington.com

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